Layers
by Catharsiss-BridgetteHayden
Summary: Harry has his sights set on one Potions Master.


This an AU. Do not try to use logic in this universe. You will only hurt yourself. :-)

Disclaimer: JK is the genius, I'm just playing

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WORK TEXT:

Harry took a long drag from his cigarette. He knew kids were staring. He liked it. They didn't know what to make of their new Defense teacher, though they'd been led to believe he was some holier-than-anyone savior. If he got his kicks proving them wrong, so be it. He wasn't addicted to the muggle sticks, but they came in handy when he wanted to make people think before approaching him. A cigarette wasn't a bad thing in itself, but the way he used it, a muggle vice in a wizard's mouth, turned it into something that had respectable wizards gaping in appallment.

His long-winded inhale, pulled embers up the length of the cigarette, racing towards his mouth, in a slow motion streak that hypnotized the eyes of those staring. And he exhaled as expertly as any nonmag who didn't give a fuck that anyone was watching him. Yes, children, Harry Potter is all grown up and it isn't always a pretty sight.

He was hanging out in one of the courtyards, robes slung over his arm, black T-shirt and jeans fully exposed. Wizards had no reason to concoct no-smoking signs in public buildings, but he was sure he'd run up against the Headmistress if he stood there much longer. He decided to risk it. It was only a matter of time before everyone was going to have something to add to the grievances against his teaching methods anyway. He'd outdone himself this time, he had to admit.

At that not-so-unplanned moment, the reason for his self-congratulatory stance, strode across the courtyard. Sun-dappled and grace incarnate, Snape's movement over paths of white stone, was like a ship majestically crossing a sea. Instead of blue water, there was glowing green grass. That's how Harry new he was in love. Snape, and everything around him, glowed. That's why he wasn't afraid to scare the kids, with his stubble and his wrinkled robes. There was nothing to be afraid of today. They'd done it. He'd done it. A lifetime of fighting to get something he wanted, something he'd had no name for, was finally his. There it went, striding across the grounds, keeping their secret, pretending to go on as the much-hated professor with the most leaden heart anyone has ever seen. Harry knew differently, and he wasn't about to let this morning go by without taking credit for it.

It hadn't been easy. He hadn't even known what he was attempting, until everything fell into place. The means were given to him years ago, when he was ready to kill Snape. He realized now that meeting him in the forest last week, could've just as easily resulted in murder. Years of animosity between them, could've had its way. Thank god it hadn't. After returning to the school, six years after graduating, all the unhealed tension was still there, just as they'd left it. They all knew the rage was present, on both sides, but so was something else. Turns out, Hermione isn't the only one who can think her way out of a bad situation.

Harry isn't stupid. He knows he got the job at Hogwarts, based on his war experience, not his grades. He likes keeping his body fit because there was something about seeing people assume he couldn't be bloody brilliant, and look that good, at the same time. He loved seeing their surprise when he outsmarts them. Snape still hadn't recovered from it.

Harry smiled. Just because he isn't book smart, doesn't mean he can't put a plan into motion. He hadn't known it at the time, but the idea came to him the day he saw something he shouldn't have seen.  
He'd taken Snape's shit for the last time. Year after year, there'd been no reward and no appreciation for all his effort and struggle. Potions didn't come easy to him. A teacher should've been able to see that he was trying and doing his damnedest. Any other teacher would've seen. But Snape chose not to. Snape chose him to play this game with, taking points away illogically, making sure he lived in detention, and always making him feel small in front of his friends. Of course, he understood now, why Snape had played the part so convincingly. But Harry couldn't help but want a little payback.

At seventeen, his stress had made the idea of Snape's demise perfectly appealing. But what he saw, the day he'd accidentally spied another side to Snape, made him rethink the situation. It made him vow to come back to the school after graduation, to pursue a romantic relationship with him as equals. It changed his mind. Snape was not the person they all thought him to be.

Harry could not win a man like that with a boy's merit badges. He had to come back a man. A wizard worth his magic.

The kitten thing was a fluke. He'd argued with Snape that day, all those years ago. Nothing unusual, just the same rage against being made the butt of Snape's comments in front of the entire class. He didn't know that he'd been singled out because Snape was sure he could take it. He'd hid in the bushes after class, bent on revenge. He didn't care if he got expelled, he didn't see himself finishing the year out anyway. If he could make that son-of-a-bitch pay for everything he'd done, before he called it quits, that would've been delicious. But following Snape from the building, through the grove and along Madame Sprout's herb garden, gave him too long to think about why Snape looked so good in black. He had too long to stare at the wizard's back, noting how the line of his waist went inward and actually curved, and how, when he slowed down, with no kids watching him, his stride turned into a rather elegant gait, causing his outer coat to swish with appealing, pleasant energy. That led him thinking that Snape almost looked athletic, for an older wizard. That led to wondering what he must look like under all those heavy layers. That led to an unexpected erection.

More surprised at his body than angry, Harry had watched as Snape launched himself, two steps at a time, up onto a back terrace, reserved for teachers after hours. Harry was careful not to trigger the wards or cross the line. He thought he'd set fire to the ground and flowers at Snape's feet. He'd wanted to burn something, and so what if Snape's robes just happened to catch fire. But Snape turned on a point. Harry thought he'd been spotted, but he saw that the professor was listening for something. Listening with his eyes as he extended his hearing. Harry kept still, his brain freezing at the idea of being caught. But when Snape took two steps forward and lifted a dirt-dripping entanglement of weeds, fur and vines from one of the large pots overflowing with Hydrangea, he looked closer. Hands that had only ever pointed to him in reprimand, or wielded expert manipulations over a potion, carefully began plucking bristles and dead leaves out of a kitten's fur.

It was a black kitten. And in Snape's hands, it looked like a fragile, starved ball of hair and bony paws, with huge eyes. In fact, it was more eyes than kitten, making it the most pitiful, unloved thing Harry had ever seen. Its faint mewling told of its hunger and distress. It told Harry that it needed help more than anyone else in that moment. Apparently, Snape thought so too. Harry watched in disbelief as Snape materialized parchment that he transformed into a paper ladle, then dipped it into Sprout's fresh collection of rainwater. He pulled a dropper from his pocket, an extraordinary thing for even a Potions Master to wear on his person, and proceeded to feed the creature on his lap. A few cleaning charms later, and fishing around in his pockets for a vial of white powder, the flees were gone and Snape's fingers tickled through soft clean fur. He produced a pouch of something left over from today's lunch, crushed it between his fingers, and let the kitten lick it from his hand.

By the time Harry had worked out that Snape must've returned to the terrace looking to save the animal, he was no longer interested in setting fire to him. He'd seen what he needed to see. Everything about Snape was a lie. At least, all the scary stuff. And anyone who could pull off an image that illusory, had to be an amazing person. The way he let the revitalized kitten crawl up one arm, sit for a moment at the top of his shoulders, and crawl down the other arm, to finally curl up in his lap, gave Harry the most valuable glimpse he would ever have into Snape's life. Snape had a heart. He should never have let Harry see that.

How dare he hold a kitten and even smile at it like a normal, loving person? How dare he crack a smile, showing beautiful teeth, and coo at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

If all that dark, hateful potency could be turned into something so gentle, so unexpectedly nurturing in a single instance, then what would it be like to befriend it? To be handled that protectively by it? To kiss it and bury one's self deep in those arms?

There was no going back. At seventeen, there'd been no time to date. At eighteen, he'd dated and explored and pretended it was all part of his bachelorhood right to celebrate his life and survival. At twenty, he knew he was collecting data and experience, for what could he possibly have to offer a man of Snape's caliber? He couldn't return to Hogwarts empty-handed. He may not have genius, but he had arms and knew the value they held for someone who wasn't touched nearly enough. Harry had allowed both men and women to sink against his chest, in gratefulness and relief, in his preparation for Snape.

At twenty-four, he knew what he wanted and he wasn't taking no for an answer. The cat was now fat and came and went as it pleased. Like its owner, it stalked the grounds with an air of superiority by day, and pounced through a secret opening, allowing it access to Snape's quarters at night. Snape still took tea with it on the terrace, on Friday evenings. Staging the kidnapping of the cat, was easy. Leaving the ransom letter, was delightful. It was like a scavenger hunt that only a Slytherin could appreciate, his gift to Snape.

Harry had to be convincing, and he'd learned it from a master. He had to remember his rage and his seventeen year-old's murderous resentment. If he' didn't bring it hard, he'd back down. One couldn't half-ass it with Snape. That would get him killed. You don't mess with Snape unless you mean it. You don't start something, unless you can back it up. The cat had to go.

The matter of gaining control, wasn't a pleasant one, but it had to be addressed. As Harry stunned the cat with his wand, and stuffed it into a carrying case, he justified his actions. How else was he supposed to render a powerful wizard like Snape, helpless, long enough to gain control? Not through violence or intimidation, but through his heart. He had to make Snape meet him some place private, secluded. His fantasy had always been a lawless fling in the woods. How much of it he could make come true, he wasn't sure, but the cat was the only way he could get Snape to meet him at the appointed time and place.

Fast forward to the shock on Snape's face when Harry enters the clearing. It's a muggle park, but it's as dense as a forest and near empty on a Sunday when muggles are mostly at church services. No one expects two wizards to meet in the open, in daylight, beneath a canopy of vegetation on an overcast day. Everything is wet from recent rains and a chill in the air certainly doesn't make it ideal for hooking up. But still, he's gotten Snape to show up at all, and that's so exciting that he doesn't care about the rest.

Since he's been back at Hogwarts, the wizard hasn't looked at him, or spoken to him, anymore than he has to. Now that Harry knew what he was capable of, that hurt worse than believing Snape couldn't help his behavior. Harry really has been a little angry about that. Maybe he was taking the role too far. But for the first time in his adult life, he had the upper hand, and the dangerous uneasiness in Snape's eyes, was thrilling to him.

Fast forward past the accusations and name calling, curses and threats. Harry stood his ground and withstood Snape's wrath. It wasn't easy, but he knew Snape wasn't about to harm him and risk never seeing the cat again.

When Harry could get a word in, he insured his life. "The cat is locked in a time-sensitive box. If he isn't released in an hour, he'll suffocate."

Snape held his silence, but his eyes narrowed at Harry's game of hardball. Are you sure you want to play it this way, they seemed to ask, giving him one last chance.

"No." Harry shook his head. "I don't want to have to do this. But how else am I going to get you to give me the time of day? I came back to Hogwarts for you, and you won't even look at me."

Fast forward through the pretense Snape uses to make Harry think he's lost his mind, and that he's being completely irrational.

"I'm not crazy. I'm not so messed up that I'm imagining the impossible. I've always wanted you. Since our occlumency lessons, I just didn't have the clarity and maturity to say it. Forget everything that's happened and tell me what you feel about me right now. Let it be just about us, not our pasts."

Fast forward to the part where Snape flat out refuses to participate and jinxes Harry with a suffocating spell that cuts off all but a thread of air until Harry is on his knees. His hands claw at his throat and he  
is only able to whisper, "I'd rather die, than be ignored by you any longer."

The words were half formed, but he thrust them into Snape's mind, knowing he would get the message. Harry willed his body not to struggle for its life, as that only made the fight for air more painful. He was lying about the cat, but appreciated the poetic justice of Snape's retaliation as everything blurred around the edges.

Fast forward to the part where Snape doesn't let him die, but sees that Harry will let himself appear murdered just to spite him. Allowed to breathe, he has called Snape's bluff and accepts help getting back to his feet. He has to cling to Snape for real, for a moment. But after his old professor doesn't pull away, Harry uses the moment to make his body a cage around Snape.

"If you can give that fucking cat a chance, you can let me have a few minutes like this. You can," Harry accuses him."

Snape is large, warm and smells of wool and lanolin. Beneath these layers, Harry seeks the natural scents of a man, and latches on to what he finds.

Fast forward to the best part. The alarm on Snape's face, when Harry kisses him. The alarm on his face when he can't get away from what Harry is pushing against his thigh. Harry is quick. He grabs Snape's wand mid-kiss and flings it out of reach. He puts everything he has into convincing Snape that here, he is the Master and Snape is the student. He doesn't know if it works, but their attraction is revealed by magic that comes out full force, linking them in a way that gets Harry what he wants.

There is hesitation in Snape's strength, but he follows Harry's mouth to the ground and Harry has done it. Memories of taking the full blast of Snape's blocking spell, has morphed into fantasies of taking him outdoors, on the ground, amid dead leaves and dirt. Harry wants his perfect robes to be grass stained by the time he's through with him. He wants Snape on his back, mostly because Snape is so much taller than him. It's easy for Snape to act superior when he's looking down at you all the time. On the ground, he would have to look up.

The best revenge was not violence, after years of waiting for this moment. The best revenge was patiently tolerating Snape's bitchy reprimands and outrage, until Harry's hands and his muscular focus, pushed him flat and rode the length of Snape's weight. Until he'd coaxed the hardest shudder out of his former teacher, that he was capable of. Fully clothed, he feasted on the friction that denied him full access to Snape's skin. That meant his hips had to make sure Snape felt him. He had to work for the gasps that Snape released into the air. He had to work to get those beautiful hands to wrap against his back and to pull him deeper. He had to break a sweat, to feel the full detail of what rolled and expanded beneath Snape's coat and trousers. Through so many frustrating layers, Harry sought mutual heat and never took his eyes off of Snape's face for one moment. With his body contoured to Snape's, he rubbed hardness with hardness, listening for, watching for, the perfect catch in his breath. Energy and magic, charged up the wider pelvis beneath him, lifting Harry along with it. It climbed up Snape's abdomen and shook his chest. Harry rode each reverberation, unable to hold himself back. There was no reason to hold himself back. This was perfect.

What could this wizard possibly have to say to him then, with his discharge soaking the both of them? Nothing, that's what. He let his own orgasm have its way, trusting that a man as capable as Snape, would survive the worst that such a quake could do. He tried to keep his eyes open. He tried to hang on to the mysteries unfolding in Snape's expression. Belief systems were changing. World order was in upheaval. There was fear, anger, betrayal, and sweet release, all in Snape's eyes and his open mouth.

He's stunned, Harry thought, as he kissed him. Good, because that meant that Snape wasn't going to recover from their deed right away. He'd have to let Harry taste that sweet mouth a bit longer. He'd have to let him inside the way he's probably never let anybody inside before. It's called siyanna, the Indian art of lovemaking through kissing only. Combined with erogenous spells, Harry wanted to show Snape that he could summon his body to give up another tidal wave. He could keep pulling them from Snape until his will was eclipsed by pleasure.

Flash forward to a mature wizard leaning on him to get to his feet. Snape doesn't look as if apparation is an option. He has to wait on Harry to find his wand and give it back to him. He's unsteady on his feet and has to trust Harry to lead him to Harry's car. Harry knows it's emotional more than physical. Snape is distraught and Harry relishes being the one to make sure he's safely in the car. Knowing it's inappropriate, he has a bounce in his step and closes the passenger door as if everything were going smoothly on his first date. He realizes that Snape's world must be spinning out of orbit. He must be watching his career nose-dive at one moments indiscretion, but Harry didn't care. Nothing this exciting could be bad. He was in control now and he would make Snape see that everything was going to work out fine.

In the car, caving into the silence between them, he headed back to the school. He's taking Snape home and not regretting a thing. He does feel compassion though, almost feeling sorry for Snape. This hard-ass wizard finally has no words to account for his behavior. In fact, he kept his head turned from Harry, pretending to watch muggle homes and neighborhoods pass by. The longer Harry drove, the more he worried that Snape was having a nervous breakdown. While he found a little chaos exciting, he knew that Snape had a pathological need for order.

He's hiding his guilt from your sight, Harry thinks. A man goes too long without giving into lust and he finds himself bested by it. Let him stew. He was going to make you wait forever without saying anything.

Harry pulled the car over and took Snape's hand. It pleased him that Snape didn't pull away. "This was not a mistake. We deserve this, no matter what anyone thinks. Don't go giving a shit about what people think now."

At these words, Snape turned a black, glassy stare to him. There was a hint of redness in them. The illusion that he was an imposing wizard who could handle anything, broke against Harry's chest.

"That's easier said than done. Your youth protects you. You were my student, you will always be seen as innocent, and I the corrupter. This will confirm everyone's suspicion that I am a heartless monster."

"It only confirms that you have a heart." Harry reached out and took him by the chin, a thing that wasn't possible until ten minutes ago. "Look at me, I didn't do this to get you hurt, or to throw your carefully organized life out of balance. I did this because I want you. I came back for you. And you deserve love too, no matter what anyone thinks."

Hardness returned to Snape's face, momentarily. "You are naive. This complicates everything. Not that it's any of your concern, but I know that I am not entirely repulsive. I know that I deserve to be appreciated in body and reputation. But you are a child to me, and you have no right to use your youth against me. It is disrespectful. I am not prepared for, nor desirous of, a young man's attention. Your needs may have been met today, but mine certainly have not."

Harry smirked. The evidence he'd deliberately left on his clothes begged to differ. "Attention? I was going for companionship." When Snape didn't laugh with him, or even soften, Harry began removing his jacket. Logic was failing him, so he switched to instinct. He took off his shirt, inviting Snape's incredulity to disapprove all it wanted. When his torso was bare and Snape had turned his head away, Harry took his hand again.

Amusement made him smile. The potential of what could happen next, if Snape wasn't such a sour puss, split Harry's decision. He could cheer this wizard up by talking to him, or by putting his mouth to better use. He wanted to dive face-first, into Snape's lap and free what had hinted of being an excellent cock back at the park. He couldn't wait for it, and was sure the man didn't know what he had. If Snape had reservations about trusting him, Harry had skills that could remove all doubt. He was willing to bet that he could get Snape to spill a second time, right this minute. But Snape wasn't used to this, so Harry agreed to slow down.

He said, "You're trying to hurt me because you think you don't deserve a body this young and maybe this attractive. That's not as arrogant as it sounds. I've dated older men, wishing I could turn them into you, and those are the whispers that always broke us up. Those are the insecurities. Even when it was never meant to be anything more than fun, it started to matter what we looked like to others, than what we felt to ourselves. I worked so hard to get to you, I'm not going to let public opinion take you away. I can't wait to get older, so that this difference won't fucking matter anymore."

"It will always matter."

"Even though I'm legal, my body and my age are obscene to you. Well I've got news for you, I was taught persistance and perseverance by the best teacher at Hogwarts. And just like he never settled for less from me, I'm not settling for less from him. We're together now. You've been alone long enough. You think I can't handle what people will say, and you think you have no more fight in you, against that kind of ignorance. Well I'm going to take you home now, and I'm going to strip you out of those wet clothes and hold you against this young, hard, naked chest, until you admit that you deserve to have your fill of happiness."

Snape closed his eyes against the sound of Harry's voice. "What is wrong with you kids, that you attempt to bed each other, and everything else, on the slightest whim? Even in my youth, I was not so eager to make such rash and lasting decisions."

"What's wrong with sex?" The question was meant to be provocative. He'd heard Snape's real statement beneath those words. _Once someone gets inside my heart, I can't ever get them out again._ Even casual sex was a life-altering decision for him. Harry understood it. Was the person worth remembering even if things ended badly?

For Harry, always yes. Everyone had something to offer, even if they were not meant to stay. Clearly, Snape disapproved of his explicitness and his cavalier attitude, but that was okay because Harry felt his hand being squeezed back. He saw that Snape's disapproval was really embarrassment, and on him, that was rather cute. "Why wouldn't you reach for the best possible experience that you could have with another person?"

"Even if you hardly know them?"

"Why wait? You go into it, not trying to trap anyone, then both of you can have fun without pressure? We wizards have charms to stay clear of diseases, so why hold back? And you and I have known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't mean that you know me. You know nothing except the professional demeanor I've presented to you. If you knew me, if you had a shred of decency, as you Gryffindors are always going on about, you would not dare to cross the line between teacher and student."

"You're no longer my teacher. Besides, maybe I'm the teacher now, and you're the student. And if you were any kind of Slytherin, you'd take advantage of the situation and enjoy it."

If Snape had more to say, and Harry was sure that he did, this made him think twice about saying it. He appeared to suppress his thoughts in favor of the warmth emanating from Harry's hand. This time, when Harry stretched across to kiss him, Snape leaned into it and opened his mouth to give Harry access to all that he wanted.

Harry started the car without putting his shirt back on. It was time to get this beautiful and reverent man back to the confines of his dungeons and potions. Harry did take him home. Not to Snape's quarters, but to his own. And when morning came, the sun rose on one Potions Master, hair over eyes, lying entangled in Harry's bed. The cat, which had been left the run of Harry's rooms, lay curled in the sheets between them.

End

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Please review! :-)

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A/N:

This is my little perk, put here as reminder to me. I usually don't put too much stock in numbers, but I've never seen this happen to one of my fics before. Outside of kudos and comments, this is very rewarding and compensates for those who don't feel comfortable commenting. This story received 523 hits (on ao3) in its first 16 hours of life, over 600 within twenty-four hours, and I woke up to over 700 on the second day. That's a first for me. My "best" fic would require well over five days for that. Factors, linking it to the flash fics in my favorite groups. Overall increased participation in groups and fandom. I'll never know all the factors. I still haven't done any contests yet and I'm considering it. As I'm always in the middle of writing novel-length stories, I didn't think I had anymore energy or focus to write the last few wonderful pieces. But I'm learning that a tiny piece can pack a lot of inspiration.


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